


Boxes

by saavik13



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, mentions of BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:04:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saavik13/pseuds/saavik13
Summary: Having your entire life tagged as evidence by your own team can lead to some unique situations.





	Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a long time ago, and the series has moved on, but I thought it still worth posting.

Falling asleep with Raymond Reddington next to you in bed ought not to be easy. Somehow, however, Liz was finding it was the only way to get anything close to a good night’s sleep.

The first time it was just exhaustion and necessity. They were on the run, she was a wanted woman, and posing as a couple was the most expedient way of getting a room for the night without anyone questioning them. So the clerk had, as most hotel clerks would, given them a single king. Red had offered to sleep on the floor, pulling the spare pillow and blanket out of the closet like a gentleman and she’d been the one to scuff and offer half the bed. “Honestly Reddington, it’s not like you’ll take advantage in the middle of the night. You may be many things but you are most defiantly not a rapist.”

It wasn’t like some cheap romance novel. They didn’t end up twined around one another, no morning erection or sleepy admissions of undying affection. They slept. Got up. Left. The next hotel had a suite and a good pull out bed and that was okay. Having him in the same room where she could hear him breathing was still oddly comforting. And it was early days – when being on the run and accepting her criminal status was difficult still, before they had made it safely out and away from the reach of the FBI and the CIA and every other agency that was surely looking for them. 

The third night they were far enough out that he booked one of his fancy hotels, with the blankets and no comforter. Dembe joined them and when dinner was over they all three went to separate bedrooms.

Why he decided to check on her she’s not sure, but he hadn’t expected her gun to end up pressed against the back of his head as a half asleep Liz knocked him to the floor. Being on the run had driven her defensive instincts from zero to a thousand and anyone entering the room like that, well, he was lucky she didn’t just shoot first.

It just seemed safer after that if they stayed a little closer. She was jumpy, and armed, and he was just as deadly and it just made sense that they were more aware of each other than not. The fact she slept better with him next to her was just a happy coincidence. And when Dembe mentioned how better rested Red seemed, with a twinkle in his eye, it rather sealed it. Neither of them had to worry about the other getting into trouble alone if they were never alone to begin with.

Of course such constant companionship meant certain things were harder to get. Liz kept waiting for Red to disappear with some young thing with legs for miles. Or an ‘old friend’ of some kind, with a swagger in her hips and a knowing smirk. He didn’t. 

She’d not had time to pack. She’s eternally grateful now that she’d left Hudson with her old neighbor who had always liked him so at least he’s safe. She didn’t have a single thing she owned with her. Losing her clothes and such wasn’t that big a deal. But all her pictures of family, her favorite hair ties, those great heels she’d gotten on clearance and never worn but kept packing up and taking with her to every new hotel room. All gone – even the contents of her nightstand drawer. The idea of Ressler and the others pawing through her meager collection of sex toys was rather alarming.

It shouldn’t surprise her that when they finally stop running long enough to catch their breath it’s at a small flat in Luxemburg and there’s a dozen boxes waiting for her. The flat is hers he says – all hers. He’d bought it for her under an airtight name and identify he’d had made up for her before he’d even entered the FBI so long ago, just in case. Her things he’s bribed out of the evidence locker at Quantico and she doesn’t think to ask him to leave as she opens the boxes.

The first one is the few pieces of clothing she’d had in her hotel room. There are evidence tags on them still and she sets them all aside until she finds the shoe box. She’d never spent that much on shoes before, and it was on clearance, and she hears Red chuckle as he sees them.

“Lizzy, I didn’t know you had such fine tastes.”

“Normally I don’t.” Liz runs a finger over the crisp Italian leather of the ankle strap. “I bought them on a whim, in case we ever had to go undercover again and I needed dress shoes.” She stands up and puts the shoes on the top shelf of the closet in the bedroom and sets the rest of the box aside unwanted. 

The second box has her old bunny in it and a handful of other childhood things she’d boxed up and saved when she cleaned out the house. It wasn’t from the hotel, but from her small storage unit, and she clutches the photo album filled with Sam to her chest. 

“I had them digitized too.” Red says softly from behind her. “If this place is ever compromised I wanted to make sure you still had copies.” He fingers the singed edges of the rabbit with a painful look on his face. “God Lizzy, I never wanted you to have to use this place.”

“I know.” She places the album carefully on the empty bookshelf. “If I’d had better self-control perhaps it could have been avoided.”

“Connely deserved that bullet, Lizzy. Never doubt that. And one way or another I think it would have ended this way. Once your mother was known the cabal would have gotten rid of you regardless – likely would have ever since they started to question my having the fulcrum. It’s my presence that did that to you.”

Liz pulls the third box closer to herself and starts to slit the packing tape. “Don’t, Red. You had your reasons for contacting me, good ones it turns out, and the work we did with the blacklist, they can’t take that away from either of us. We got bad people off the streets. It was worth it.”

She smiles as she says it, not paying attention to exactly what’s in the box until she’s already flipped the sides wide open.

Sitting right there on top is her favorite dildo, with a hand-written evidence tag hanging off it. She’s not sure if she should laugh or cry.

“What is it?” Red asks, concerned, and moves quickly to her side assuming there’s something particularly upsetting in the box that’s caused her expression. She doesn’t move fast enough to close the flaps and the contents are very obvious as he looks down in the box.

There’s a long awkward pause where her hand is poised to try and close the lid, and he’s frozen looking down, and finally they catch each other’s eyes and the laughter feels cathartic. There’s an entire box of sex toys sitting on the expensive wool rug in her secret criminal hideout and she’s got the concierge of crime as her own personal tutor to the underworld and they are both cracking up in hysterical giggles about a purple silicon dildo with Ressler’s handwritten evidence tag dangling off it.

“I _have_ been missing that.” She finally confesses, breathless, as their hysteria finally slows down enough to talk. 

He smirks and in usual Reddington fashion takes it further, reaching into the box and pulling out the item. It’s slightly springy as he flicks the bulbous end and he chuckles as it bobs in his hand. “What else is in here?” he askes, and Liz blushes as he sets aside the dildo and starts rummaging in the rest of the box.

The evidence people, or whoever had stolen it all, had grouped like items for the most part, and the contents are a mix of things from her hotel nightstand and her storage unit. It’s a big box and it’s not all sex toys. There are towels and her bath robe and her two favorite pillows in there, bottles of shampoo, her razor, and the fuzzy slippers she used to keep under the bed – a strange mixture of bathroom and bedroom items that probably made some kind of sense to whoever had boxed them. But it’s the sex toys that Red lays out on the carpet with an increasingly odd expression on his face.

She should be mortified but the part of her that likes shocking people, that likes playing the bad girl, enjoys watching him discover things about that part of her with each one.

Some are not all that hard to figure. There’s a simple bullet vibe with it’s little remote on a cord. The standard bottle of lube and a tiny little butt plug with a decorative end. Even the lace mask and corset aren’t all that unusual these days. 

It’s the ball gag and flogger that make Red turn crimson. The expensive silk fully fashioned stockings draw a sound from him. And the carefully wound bundles of rope make him look up in shock.

“A girl needs a hobby.” Liz shrugs and, enjoying the look of startled reassessment on his face, reaches into the box and pulls out the anal hook and her favorite nipple clamps. The pussy pump and ring gag round out the collection. “I threw away everything that I associated with Tom so I’m afraid there’s no male centered items in there. I haven’t had a reason to replace them.”

Red’s pupils are wide as he looks back and forth between her and the box. “I didn’t take you for a….” he hesitates, trying to gauge what direction she might go with her toys, and she fingers the edges of her flogger before she replies.

“I like it both ways.” She says it softly. Its one thing to enjoy startling him after he finds the items it’s another to admit to how she’s used them. It seems like he’s seeing into another layer of her, one of the few she’s got left that he hasn’t become intimately familiar with over the course of their association.

“Oh.” He says, equally quiet, and she doesn’t need to be a profiler to see how he’s shifting slightly to keep pressure off his growing erection. 

The rebel in her can’t help it. “How do you like it, Ray?” She asks, her tone far more playful than she’d meant it to be in her head.

He doesn’t answer right away, but rather fingers the stockings carefully as he contemplates the box.

“Lizzy I don’t want you to take this the wrong way…” he hesitates and then looks up at her, honesty in his eyes. “Considering our history this is entirely inappropriate but I’d really like to fuck you right now.”

“Good.” She admits, licking her lips. “Because I don’t think that didldo is quite going to cut it for me.”

The profiler in her had already guessed he liked to bottom now and then but she’d always wondered if he could top too, or if it reminded him too much of his day job. The way he grabs her and pins her seems to indicate he too enjoys it both ways. 

It was brutal their joining. He had her pants down around her ankles and was inside her without even bothering to undo her blouse. And that was fine, becasuse a good hard fuck after weeks on the run felt glorious and she reveled in his aggression as he slammed himself into her, strong hands pinning her arms down as he growled above her. Its too quick to make her come but she still enjoys it, enjoys seeing him so undone and out of control as he ruts into her. She relishes the feel of him tensing inside her, the pained scrunch of his face as he comes inside her, hard and fast and ripped from him in agonizing spurts. Not for the first time she wishes she was one of those women that can actually feel a man spend himself, know for certain in the splash of hot semen against even hotter walls, that her man is satisfied. She wants to feel that, not just see it, but she’s never been able to and the warm trickle that leaks out as he softens will have to do.

He’s heavy on top of her but she doesn’t want to prod him into moving. They are still nearly dressed and she’s afraid that if he realizes exactly what he’s done he’ll run. 

His hands are still wrapped tightly around her wrists and she can’t hold him. Her pants and boots even keep her from wrapping her legs around him, trapped as they are not letting her do more than part her knees. It’s erotic, and awesome, and at tehs ame time inconvient.

Eventually he rolls off her, the gush of his arousal more a burst damn as he pulls out than the trickle she’s used to and god she wants him to come like that every night. She’s always had a thing for having her theighs slick with her own juices and her lover’s cum. 

He’s laying on his back, arm over his eyes, his breathing still labored as she kicks off her shoes and pushes her pants off all the way. Her blouse and bra follow and when she pulls his arm awayh from his eyes he looks startled to find her naked.

“Bed.” She says simply, tugging on his arm. “Bed and naked and your mouth in that order.” She commands and he blinks up at her before wordlessly following her. 

He’s got scars on his scars and it’s the first time she doesn’t feel at least a little self councios of her burns. His are so terribly worse, she can feel them as she clutches him to her, even though he’s trying hard to keep his back away from her. When his head dips down to where she wants it, her hands rubbing over the soft fuzz of his head, she can see them over his shoulder. They aren’t ugly on him, she thinks, knowing exactly how he got them and when. They are testimony to what this man has done for her and while knowing that he saved her as a child should make this disturbing it actually sends her over the edge.

She probably should have warned him she comes like that, her own gush of fluid that made her first boyfriend laugh at her. But he mustn’t mind it given the sounds he’s making from between her theighs. He keeps going, wringing a second flood from her, and when he finally moves back up the bed she kisses him, tasting both of them on his lips and in his mouth.

She wants to stay awake, wants to make sure they discuss this, but she’s programed now that a bed and Reddington equals sleep and despite her desires she falls easily into her pattern. She’s somewhat surprise that when she wakes he’s still there. 

He’s moved them both under the covers, the damp spot from her excitement is slightly cold where it’s soaked down through the coverlet. But he’s warm, and pressed tightly to her, spooning her from behind, and the fact that he’s positioned them so she’s against the wall and he’s between her and the door is oddly endearing. 

In the end, it’s all so very easy she wonders why they didn’t just start out that way.


End file.
